


Chasing the Dragon

by Coffiend



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Gen, Horror, sword and sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffiend/pseuds/Coffiend
Summary: After Ryuji is kidnapped by shadows, the Phantom Thieves give chase into a fantastic world on the border between dream and nightmare.





	1. Chapter 1

 

It was not often that Ryuji Sakamoto slept well. He often boasted to his friends that this was because he loved games and hated studying, but the truth he kept to himself; his true problem with sleep, and the reason he tried so often to distract himself from its lure, was that sleep led to dream; and Ryuji hated dreaming.

Nightmares came to him often, and though thankfully morning obliterated most of their memory their shards still pierced him well enough. As Skull Ryuji held himself together almost effortlessly; yet when the day was done and the adrenaline had drained from his veins the blond often found himself thinking too much on the creatures he fought. In his nights they returned; twisted into miasmic forms by his addled mind, reaching out with catching claws and jealous eyes to drag him back to their domain. He hated it; yet Ryuji still preferred nightmares to pleasant dreams and he hated that to. A nightmare he could wake from and be glad at its passing. Pleasant dreams stuck to his mind like tar.

His pleasant dreams were mostly of women. Women he knew, such as his teammates, who held no romantic feelings for him at all. They would lock him in their serpentine legs and draw him inside them before whispering in his ear; words of love, desire, and embarrassingly enough, appreciation. The phantom women would often tell him that they thought he was a kind, strong, intelligent person and Ryuji would believe them for a while. Sometimes Ann, sometimes Makoto, sometimes a faceless girl that cared; when Ryuji awoke, their names died on his lips. To avoid the guilt and the pain that came with these dreams the blond adhered to a rigorous masturbatory schedule fueled by pirated eromanga and kept his midnight hours occupied with video games.

Though his tactics worked, he often regretted the lethargy that came with their success. One day this regret reached new heights; Ryuji had spent ten hours binging on _Metal Gear Solid_ and doujinshi the previous night, only for unexpected rain to prompt Akira to order the phantom thieves into Mementos. It wasn’t an impossible task; Ryuji had gone on runs before on less sleep, but still, he couldn’t help but close his eyes sometimes, listen to the purr of Morgana's engine, lean back…

“Skull, are you aware you have been drooling on my shoulder for the past seventeen minutes?” Came Yusuke’s voice, piercing through the fog.

“Wah… Huh?” Ryuji jerked his head off of his teammates shoulder immediately. “Wait, I fell asleep? Why didn’t you tell me at the start?”

“You only just now had begun to drool on my sketchpad.” Yusuke said, still looking at an illustration on his lap. “Also, Noir thought it was ‘cute’, and desired to take pictures. However, since the cameras on our phones do not work in the Metaverse…”

Yusuke slapped his artbook and triumphantly held his work to the light, displaying a masterful portrait of Ryuji sleeping on his shoulder. “I am quite satisfied with the resulting piece. Skull, I must ask… Would you consider modeling for me in the future?”

The bus erupted with the laughter of the thieves. Yusuke looked on with mild confusion, while Ryuji and Haru both had turned beet-red at the mention of “modeling”. “Fox, y-you promised not to tell…” Haru said, making odd fidgeting motions with her hands.

“Oh!” Yusuke’s face brightened with realization. “I am deeply sorry, Noir… In my excitement at finishing the piece, I had forgotten the terms of our agreement. Though it is undoubtedly little reconciliation, it would be dishonorable of me to ask that you pay. I was anticipating eating well with that payment…” Yusuke grimaced and handed Haru the portrait. “Here it is, free of charge.”

“Wait, charge?” Said Ryuji. “How much were you going to get paid for that?”

“3000 yen.” Yusuke replied absentmindedly.

“Fox…” Squeaked Haru, who seemed to be desperately attempting to shrink in her seat.

“Three thou… 3000 yen? For one picture? We could eat like kings with that kind of cash, I’ll pose for as many BL drawings as you need, man!” Ryuji replied with a smile on his face. The bus erupted into laughter again and Ryuji secretly began to stab the keys in his left pocket into his thigh, taking energy from the pain. “ _Can’t. Fucking. Nod off like that.”_ Ryuji thought to himself.

The bus continued deeper into Mementos; its riders unaware of two shadows, one male and one female, following close behind. The female wore a green dress and golden hair, while the male wore a crown and a sabre strapped to his hip. Both possessed the wings of insects; the man’s gray, the woman’s crystalline and clear.

“Though I do love him dearly, I cannot help feel insulted at the conduct of the golden-haired one.” Spoke the woman. “Ahh, it hurts. How he spurns us and our realm.”

“Hah, Sakamoto?” Laughed the man. “His scorn is born of desire, not disdain. We open wounds with our shows, I cannot feel offended. How do lovers say it these days? ‘Tis not you, tis me?’ Sakamoto does not hate us, he hates how he is ill-equipped to receive what we give.”

“Still, still. Their adventures have entertained me so. I love this Sakamoto and the phantom troupe he belongs to, the depths of what they have given me, they shall perhaps never know. It hurts me that we cannot give to Ryuji anything in return.” The winged woman sighed.

“I know what you speak of all too well. I have been thinking; though William became immortal long ago, perhaps we have been resting for too long. It is good to be audience, but we mustn’t forget our nature as players.” The butterfly-winged man paused. “Perhaps… Perhaps it is time we weave our old enchantments again.”

“Oberon,” the woman laughed as the two turned another corner through the eldritch subway tunnels, “are you suggesting we adopt our old personas?”

“Perhaps.” came the reply. “It would be easy enough. I could muster a distraction. With a casting of _Dormina_ you’d be away with the child in your arms. What say you? Shall we put up another dream?”

“Oh, how marvelous that would be.” The woman’s eyes lit up. “I will take the boy to the dreamlands, and his teammates shall follow. Shall we then?”

“So we shall!” Spoke Oberon flying after the bus, stealth forgotten and sabre drawn. “Havoc! Have at thee!”

Inside the bus, Akira began to string together a series of increasingly terrible oaths, eventually devolving into an animal growl as he gnashed his teeth and gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. The rest of the thieves lapsed into dead silence. With a quick right turn, the bus shot into a dead-end and unceremoniously deposited its passengers by the tracks. With a puff of smoke, the bus was a cartoonish, whining cat; and then the flying shadow fell upon the thieves like a thunderbolt. Chips from Yusuke’s sword scattered through the air; the artist had barely parried a sabre-blow that would’ve doubtlessly split his skull like a watermelon. His blade was severely damaged and his sword-arm felt numb, and both symptoms only worsened as the faerie continued its blistering assault. The artist’s katana was superior in swiftness and cutting edge, but it was brittle and light; metal chips flew with each blow absorbed. It was a weapon made for cutting flesh, not the brute clash of metal upon metal, and the faerie took advantage of the fact masterfully.

“No, no. Widen your stance!” Spoke Oberon. “Tighten your retreat! Damnit man, you have the gift. Just. Stop. Thinking so much!” Like a dark cloud, Akira rose behind the duelists, spinning his knife-hand into “icepick grip” and creeping forwards on the balls of his feet. Leaping forth and bringing his right arm down like a hammer, Akira found nothing but empty space as Oberon took to the air. The ground crackled with the discharge of firearms and the tunnels shook with the roll of Oberon’s _Ziodyne._ A green-garbed shadow slid from the ceiling, slipping closer and closer to Ryuji before suddenly putting her hand over his mouth and dragging him around a corner. Ryuji attempted to scream, but the woman pulled him close and whispered into his ear… softly… and he went limp. Taking the boy into her arms the faerie carried him into the darkness of Mementos, pausing at a dead-end to speak ancient words and summon a shining gate before silently slipping through and away.

Oberon paused, before rising into the air and taking a bow. “It has been fun,” the faerie spoke, “but I must away. We shall meet again soon, I predict.” A shot narrowly passed by his ear. With a puff of smoke and the sound of chimes, the shadow vanished.

“Is everyone alright?” Morgana asked, coughing. A chorus of affirmation rose from the thieves as food, drink and the flash of healing magic appeared among their ranks. “Skull? Skull!” Makoto yelled, pacing back and forth across the tracks. “Skull! Ryuji-kun! I…” Makoto quieted. “I… I can’t find Ryu-Skull. I mean Skull.”

The thieves grew silent before exploding into questions and frantic searching. Quickly it became clear that Ryuji was gone. Akira grimaced, chewing at one of his fingers before spitting a bitten nail onto the ground.

“Back into the bus.” He said, softly.

 

 

 

 

Ryuji first felt the cool touch of wind and water on his face, and heard first the sound of rain. He felt something warm and soft against his lips, and suddenly he was awake again. The face of a beautiful, unearthly woman was attached to his and there was something dancing in his mouth. It took Ryuji’s addled mind ten seconds to realize the thing in his mouth was a tongue, and ten seconds more to realize it wasn’t his. He was lying prone with his back on a plane of cool earth, paralysis shooting through his veins as his kidnapper straddled his hips. As she detached herself from the blond, the golden-haired woman wiped a strand of their mixed saliva from her face and life returned to Ryuji’s limbs. In a blink, she vanished into the mists.

Ryuji stood quickly, right hand going for his bludgeon and his left seeking his mask; with a quick jerk to rip it from his skull, the flame-wreathed silhouette of Captain Kidd appeared behind him. “What the eff…?” Ryuji muttered.

 Ryuji stood on a shallow hill under a clouded night sky. The sound of light rain buzzed in the darkness and a gentle breeze carried the smell of damp earth. Mist danced across the grass. In the distance, other hills rose through the fog; many bearing odd stone monuments and carved passageways leading into their depths. Ryuji was completely alone. From somewhere unseen came the sound paper tearing and wood snapping. A low beat began; softly at first, but growing in volume quickly, as if coming from many drums in all directions. A glistening oil began to leak from the stone passageways.

“We should leave this place.” Said Kidd.

 

 

 

 

 

The phantom troupe stood before the gate, their eyes tracing its golden workmanship. Contained within its metal whorls were chimeric creatures, heroic warriors, dancing faeries and many more, writhing and connected in odd ways that made the gate seem as if it was perceived through an imperfect, warped lens. Suddenly, Yusuke began to laugh to himself as he looked upon it, continuing on for some time as the rest of the troupe stared at him. Eventually, he wiped a tear from his left eye and looked back to the gate, offering no explanation to his outburst.

“Fox…?” prodded Ann.

“Oh!” exclaimed the artist. “I apologize. I merely find it amusing how it portrays the thieves so accurately. The artist even captured Jokers smirk. Such fine metalwork…” Yusuke sighed. “Exquisite.”

“…Excuse me?” Said Makoto.

“See here. The way Oracle hunches as she looks at her laptop, the stiffness in Queens shoulders… The artisanship is quite impressive.” Yusuke traced his finger across a small corner of the enormous gateway that, sure enough, held the likeness of the thieves, shown chasing after a woman holding Ryuji in her arms. The detail was minuscule, but the group _was_ there, carved into the piece. “Oh!” gasped the artist as the rest of the thieves examined his findings.

“What is it Fox?” Said Akira.

“I just realized. Perhaps I should be more concerned about the fact that whoever made this gate is familiar with our appearance.” Said the artist. Futaba chuckled.

“It’s the only way he could have gone. The carvings can’t just be coincidence.” Said Makoto.

“Mona, do you know where this leads?” Asked Futaba.

The cat winced. “Maybe… A different part of the Metaverse?”

Akira spat another bitten fingernail to the ground. He had chewed the nail of his right index finger to the quick, and it had begun to bleed slightly. Though his teammates pretended not to notice, their leaders face had begun to twist and writhe at unpredictable moments; flashing into excruciated grimaces for fractions of a second before returning to a calm state, as if the raven-haired teenager was randomly being electrically shocked. It was an unsettling habit; when he first arrived at Shujin his peers had spread rumors about how the transfer student was a drug addict. Though his fellow thieves noticed his convulsions almost immediately, they had never spoke of it to him, and he had never acknowledged the habits existence himself in any way. After the destruction of Kamoshida’s castle, the snarls had been more subdued; becoming a daily occurrence instead of hourly, and then a weekly one instead of daily. Now they returned, and with far greater intensity than before.

With a deep, rattling breath, Akira regained control of his own face. As Akira strode forwards, the gate swung open of its own accord, letting a cool breeze and the smell of rain loose into Mementos.

“W-what are you doing?” Stuttered Ann. “We don’t know what’s in there!”

“My goddamn right hand man’s in there.” Akira replied. “Stay here, or come along if you want. I’m going to go fucking get him.”

Akira walked into the mists. The remaining thieves paused, before following one by one.


	2. Breaker's Beat

Ryuji stood upon a long field, panting. Pain shot through his body, from his hunched shoulders into his shaking hands, pulsing rhythmically to notes playing in his head. It was a breakers beat, summoned from somewhere deep in the fissures between Ryuji’s bones, and he knew it well. His cries uttered in battle had always followed its verse, and the blows he had struck had always fallen to its rhythm. Ryuji’s pursuers from the hills had retreated underground, but they would soon return and join the beat again; through his boots Ryuji could feel them scratching at the earth.

The field shone with mist. From the moon poured a pale glow, pooling in the fog. Within the fog thousands of birds covered the ground in a boiling layer; eagles, crows, seagulls, ravens, sparrows, robins, jays, cardinals and many others writhed against each other in an orgy of feather and talon, becoming something formless and singular. Torn banners, sundered swords, broken spears and pale bones sprouted from the winged carpet like turnips. The sea of feathers around Ryuji squirmed excitedly; from beneath his feet, the scratching quickened, and the birds began to churn faster.

 _“I need to find Akira.”_ Ryuji thought to himself, limping onwards.

 

 

 

 

 

“Joker? Joker! Where _ARE_ you?” Ann called, cupping her hands over her mouth. “Queen? Fox? _Anyone?”_

Ann stood on a mountain path, unsure how she had arrived there without her teammates. The night was silent. A cool breeze brushed through her hair and spun the mist into gentle fingers. Down the mountain, a dark forest stretched forever; above Ann, rocky slopes stretched away into fog.

“AAAAAH!” Came Morganas voice.

A separate, shrill cry filled the air; “By talon, feather, wing and beak; foolish cat, OFF MY PEAK!”

“I’M NOT A CAT!” Morgana squeaked, running down from higher on the mountain and launching himself onto Ann’s shoulders. Following him came an eagle the size of a minivan, half-hopping and half-gliding down the slope with quick, jerky wing-flaps. Ann screamed, and fire sprang from Carmen’s hands. When the eagle reached her, it paused at the heat, towering over both of the thieves.

“Not a cat?” The eagle cocked its head and squinted at Morgana. “Hoo-rum. You smell like a cat, though thy head be enourmous and round…” The eagle loomed closer. Ann’s fire flashed in warning, and the eagle startled back; drawing itself upwards and flapping its wings.

“BY WHAT _RIGHT_ DO YOU _INVADE MY HOME_?” It screeched, towering over the two thieves.

“I don’t. Know!” Shouted Ann, the flames rising and falling with her voice. “We’re lost! I’m just… I’m just trying to find someone!”

The eagle lowered from its towering posture and cocked its head. “Find someone?” It squawked.

“It’s…” sighed Ann. “A friend.”

“How were they lost and how did you come here, if you truly come bearing no ill will?” Spoke the eagle, still eyeing the flame in Carmen’s hands.

“It’s a long story.” Said Morgana.

The eagle froze, staring at the thieves for an uncomfortable length of time before cracking open its beak and making a shrill wheezing sound. Suddenly, the gargantuan bird seemed less menacing. “Hah! Oh…” sighed the eagle. “You come bearing stories then? I apologize. It seems I have mistaken guests for intruders. Stay right there.”

Ann blinked.

“I’ll be right back. I’ll fetch fuel for a fire and my stored fish for roasting. You two are guests on my mountain so long as you bear stories. Please, sit.” Said the eagle, dragging logs into a clearing off the roadside and arranging the wooden seats into a circle. With a mighty flap, the eagle soared into the night, leaving the thieves alone.

“Let’s leave before that shadow comes back.” Morgana whispered. Ann muttered an agreement. As the two turned to escape, a mighty _CLUMP_ sounded behind them. Turning to look back, the eagle had returned; one talon having dropped a pile of dead wood into the center of the clearing and the other clutching a gleaming mass of raw fish. Unbidden, Carmen whispered something towards the pile and an ember was born, branching from leaves to kindling to wood. The thieves were completely mesmerized; the eagle gave itself to intense concentration as it coaxed and teased the blaze upwards. With gentle movements of its wings and talons it fed the embers twigs and air, and soon the fire was alive. Finally, with a feeling not unlike breaking from _Marin Karin_ Ann tore her eyes away from the fire. Morgana was happily roasting a deep sea bass twice his size on a stick, thoughts of escape forgotten. Suddenly, Ann realized she was very cold in her skintight costume, and huddled closer to the blaze.

The eagle hummed happily. “So, I believe you two had a tale to tell?” It said through a mouthful of swordfish.

“Let me start… at the beginning.” Answered Morgana, lazily rubbing his stomach. “So there I was, trapped in the dungeons of a king named Kamoshida…”

“What? No!” Squeaked Ann. The bird and the cat both turned to stare at her. Swallowing audibly, Ann continued on. “We don’t have time to tell everything! Ryujiguh… Skull. Skull, is still out there!”

The trio fell silent, and suddenly the noise of crickets in the night seemed deafening. Ann wore a face like she was trying to twist her own tongue into knots.

“A man titled Skull?” Spoke the eagle. “A good name, truly. And he’s somewhere in the dreamlands, perhaps in danger.” The bird paused. “Is ‘Skull’ a hero, perhaps?”

“What?” Replied Ann, snapping from her reverie.

“A hero. A man of tremendous selflessness and emotional strength, loved by men and the gods alike yet often doomed to a tragic end. Prone to struggle and journey of mythic nature, their names and legacies often live on for centuries or even millennia after their passing. Perhaps of divine ancestry and possessing of martial prowess bordering on the invincible.” The eagle bobbed its head. “That is the nature of this place. These lands are born from the dreams of heroes, sorcerers, gods and monsters that percolate in the souls of all human beings. You stand in the mountains of Western percolations though, so such aesthetics are doubtlessly unfamiliar to children of the Rising Sun… But it is the way of these places that heroes journey through them.”

The eagle stared at Ann’s face, eyes unblinking. “You have the cut of a heroine, if ever I’ve seen one, and indeed I’ve seen many. Your face speaks of journeys. Is ‘Skull’ your lover?”

Morgana went pale. Ann laughed. “What are you…? No, no. He’s a friend, and…”

Ann looked back into the fire. “Maybe he’s one of only ones I’ll get. Okay? Look, we were just going through Mementos…”

Ann paused. “OK, so Mementos is…”

The eagle interrupted, its avian face twisted in rapt attention. “Some strange, sorcerous underworld akin to Tartarus, Xibalba, Hell, what have you. I understand. You were journeying through Mementos when…”

Morgana piped up, still looking slightly ill. “We were attacked.”

The giant eagle stood and did an excited dance around the fire, before calming itself and perching on its old spot. “By what?”

“A man. With… butterfly wings.” Ann winced. “He had a crown, and a sword, and was dressed like… something European? An officer, or a king or something? It was a hard fight, and when it was over we couldn’t find Skull anywhere, only this weird gate. It had all these carvings too, like with Skull being kidnapped and the rest of us chasing.”

“So we went through.” Ann paused. “But it got all foggy in the way through, and I lost sight of the others. And then,” Ann threw her hands up in air, “I ended up here!”

“That’s _brilliant!_ ” Squawked the eagle, hopping up and down excitedly. “Maybe I’m imagining sexual tension between you and ‘Skull’ but _ohh,_ if it isn’t good… And now you’re separated from your friends in a strange magical land, trying to find each other! I hope one of your number slays a dragon while wielding an enchanted weapon before this is over, that hasn’t happened in _ages_ …” The eagle drifted off. The two thieves looked at each other quizzically.

With a beat of its wings, the eagle extinguished the fire. “Hop on my back.” It happily squawked, turning its tail towards the thieves.

“Excuse me?” Ann said. Morgana was already attempting to slink off into the night, the fire's spell over him broken.

“Hop on my back! ‘Skull’ could be anywhere, perhaps fighting for his life, but the speed and vision of a great eagle is unmatched, and I know these lands like I know my own talons!” The eagle gurgled. “You’ve had dreams of flying before, correct?”

“I think I should… Uh…” Ann blanked as Morgana frantically motioned for her to follow him.

“What’s that?” Mused the eagle as the wind howled. “The winds tell me there’s a flaxen-haired warrior and an undead corsair in horrible danger to the north. I suppose you could go your own way, but they may take days to reach, and by then they’d be long dead…” The eagle shook its tail feathers seductively. “And I could certainly be lying right now, but are you willing to take that chance? Will you trudge through the night, or will you triumphantly soar to your lovers’ aid on the back of a feathered, screaming behemoth? You’d have your whip around my neck at all times should I attempt to betray you.”

The giant eagle started hopping around excitedly. “Come oh heroine, oh daughter of the Rising Sun; ride me, please.”

Morgana snickered. “Shut up,” said Ann to the cat, “shut up. And he’s not my lover!” she continued, turning from Morgana to face the eagle. “He’s a loudmouthed, overconfident, hyper-macho, insensitive... Well, I suppose he can be _kind_ of sensitive sometimes…”

Ann stood silently. “Alright.” She whispered. Morgana looked on in disbelief as she wrapped her whip around the eagles’ neck, before latching onto Ann’s shoulders in turn. The eagle waddled over to the mountainside before hopping off, provoking a scream from both its passengers, and flying deep into the night sky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ryuji could feel the blood in his veins curdling, like milk left in the sun.

He and Captain Kidd were riding Kidd’s spectral, leering ship like a surfboard. In all directions around the two, birds stretched as far as the eye could see, forming a lashing ocean of feathery bodies. The breaker's beat boomed in the blond’s brain.

From beneath the avian sea, something scratched at the _Adventure._ A clawed hand reached over the deck, then another, then another. Finally the many arms heaved an enourmous sneering primate onto the ship, dwarfing Ryuji and matching Kidd in height. Translucent oil dripped from its yellowed fangs. Urine-colored eyes aflame, it affixed its gaze on Ryuji and rasped.

“ _Whore._ ”

The beat in Ryuji’s head weakened; the curdling in his veins quickened. Ryuji, Kidd and the Beast exploded into motion, desperately struggling for life. With a blast from his cannon Kidd blew off an arm, but the primate grappled the corsair and threw him into the feathered ocean before pinning Ryuji to the deck. The Beast’s cannon wound bled warmth over Ryuji’s body as it breathed into the blonds face the stench of dozens of corpses, their rotting flesh caught between its teeth.

“ _Give up, gigolo.”_ Rasped the primate. “ _Master your shameful urges. Do not lust after being alive.”_

The primate drooled onto Ryuji’s face as it moved its fangs towards Ryuji’s neck. “ _Be. Abstinent.”_

“ _WE! WILL! NOT!”_ Kidd roared like the signal horns of apocalypse, climbing from the avian mass onto his ship and grabbing the primate by the upper fangs. The beat returned. From below, Ryuji grabbed at the Beast’s lower jaw; with a mighty yank from both and a sound like a drumstick being torn from a rotisserie chicken, the two tore the primate’s jawbone and a good chunk of its flesh from its face. Heaving the struggling monster over his head, Kidd threw the primate into the feathered sea. Sensing weakness, the birds cleaned its meat from its bones in less than a minute.

Ryuji sat and put his head between his knees. After indeterminable hours, the birds began to climb and hop over the _Adventure_ and his prone form, the ship slowly sinking. From the skies came an eagle; astride it, a woman aflame. With a gust of _agi_ the birds were cleared from the _Adventure._ Swooping low, the eagle snatched Ryuji from the deck, and away into the skies.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like birds.


	3. Where Angels Fear

_“Perhaps this is what it feels like to look at a coffin from the inside.”_ Thought Yusuke.

It was like someone had thrown a sack cloth over his head. There was nothing but darkness around him. Before him his hands grasped metal, crafted into a grid and barring his only way out of an otherwise open-faced stone box the size of a walk-in closet. He sat with his back to a wall, waiting. Somewhere, water dripped. Light reached his eyes. From around a corner came the man with butterfly wings, carrying a lone flickering candlestick. By its yellow glow, tunnel walls took form; Yusuke sat in a prison cell carved from stone. “You!” Yusuke grunted, leaping to his feet and colliding with the metal bars that incarcerated him.

“Me.” Whispered Oberon. “Keep your voice dull. There are things in this place neither of us wish to be known to.”

“Where have you taken my friend?” Yusuke snarled, heeding not the faeries warnings of silence. “Where have you taken my _friends?_ Answer me! At least do not deny me that! _”_

A distorted chittering filled the tunnels, vibrating Yusuke’s rib cage. “I say thee _quiet!”_ hissed Oberon. “ _Quiet,_ or you’ll slay us both! I said before and I say again, there are things here, things that would do to us what eagles do to corpses! Have you reached understanding?”

Yusuke lapsed into silence.

“I asked you a question. Have you reached understanding?” Whispered Oberon through the bars, casting his furtive eyes around as if fearing what the shadows cast by his candle held.

“…Yes, I have.” Yusuke whispered.

“Good. We are deep underground. This place is a prison of kinds, but not for us.”

“Are you certain?” Yusuke questioned, clutching the bars of his cell.

“Don’t get snippy with me, Emperor. The wards of that cell have long faded; whatever it was originally designed to hold skitters free now.” Oberon made a circular gesture with his free hand. "Give me your sword. Before I let you out I must attend to it.”

Yusuke stared.

“Give me your sword, fool. I swear by the ashes of the Globe it shall be returned hastily. My plans hinge on your exodus from this place and you cannot _do_ that with a chipped blade. Yusuke. _Please._ You are right not to trust me but lives are at stake here, yours and your friends included. _Give me your sword._ ”

“Before I do that,” growled Yusuke, “and before you run me through on my own blade, answer me this. Where am I, and how did I come here?”

“As I said, a prison. The gate you passed through takes its users where it wishes.” Oberon cast his eyes around once more. “Built long before the first men and women crawled from the ocean. Its makers are beyond my knowledge; they left, long ago, for reasons swallowed by the ages. But their prison still holds, and those they imprisoned still gnash at their chains. Things walk these halls that should be crawling in hell. Now give me the damn blade. If I desired your death I would simply leave and wait.”

Yusuke uncomprehendingly stared at the butterfly-man, before grudgingly handing over his sword, feeling for the rifle on his back at the same time. Setting his candlestick on the tunnel floor, Oberon drew the damaged blade and rubbed a shining golden dust on it, and the metal was mended. “ _Good boy.”_ Oberon cooed, like he was talking to a frightened puppy. _“Good boy. All is well._ It wants you to know its name is ‘Scarbrush’.” Oberon said, sheathing the sword and returning it hilt-first.

“Are you seriously asserting that you just communicated with my sword, and that it is named ‘Scarbrush’?” inquired Yusuke.

“Yes.”

Yusuke strapped Scarbrush back on his hip. “To express my thoughts truly, that sounds like something from Dragon Quest.”

“You catch on quick.” Oberon picked his candlestick from the ground and handed it through the bars, before pulling a key from a pocket. “Head to the surface. An exit will reveal itself to you the moment that candle burns to the wick, but it will not be open for long. If you desire to save your flaxen-haired friend, you will be through by then. Until then, do not become victimized by this place, and do not let that flame extinguish.” With a _clack,_ the cell swung open.

“Something’s heard us.” Said Oberon as Yusuke strode into the tunnel. “I must away.” With a flash of smoke and the sound of distant bells, Oberon was gone. Before Yusuke could truly register what the faerie had said, something massive, gibbering and chitinous flung itself from the darkness onto Yusuke’s chest, gnashing for flesh with dozens of mandibled mouths. With a shout from persona and user both, Goemon bisected the beast. Eyes opened along the tunnel, and what Yusuke thought to be stone revealed itself to be shining black chitin, writing in a singular coat along the walls and ceiling.

As the enourmous wad of beetles, centipedes and giant chimeric insects woke, turning their slavering mouths towards him, Yusuke struggled not to vomit. _“The Sayuri. Think of the Sayuri, and the artist you are as of yet not. Think of your mother. Think of how much she would’ve wanted you to live. Think of your friends. Think of all you love. Think of all you desire.”_

With a scream louder than anything he had ever uttered, candle in one hand and Scarbrush in the other, Yusuke gave himself to the breaker's rhythm, setting himself to the slayer's work.

 _“I will not die here.”_ He thought, mind boiling with raw, chemical fear; “ _I will not die here!”_


	4. Goldmother

“Joker? Where are you? Joker?”

Makoto called into the night. Her feet hurt. She’d been walking for hours. Pursuing Ryuji, the phantom thieves had trudged through the gate and silently walked into the fog, or so she had thought. Makoto had turned to break the silence, and in doing so realized that the hazy silhouettes she’d thought she were her friends had been trees in the mist. Strange, she would’ve sworn the figures had been walking with her…

“Joker?” She called again, a hint of panic entering her voice.

“We’re over here!” Came Akira’s voice, somewhere to her left. “Where are you?”

“I’m here!” Makoto called back, relief entering her voice. “Keep calling! I’ll come to you!”

“Here kitty kitty kitty!” Came Futaba’s voice.

Turning to the sound of their voices, Makoto’s gait became a run; her steel-toed boots squishing noisily through mud and moist grass. Moving as fast as she believed she could go without running into trees, she continued to call out into the night.

“You’re almost there, Queen!” Came Haru’s voice, much louder than before. “You’re getting louder!”

Makoto bursted into a clearing, sure by their voices that her friends were there. “I’m…”

Her voice died in her throat.

Before her there was a scrap of the night, like dark starry fabric, flapping in the wind. An enormous being wore it like a heavy cloak, its cloven feet peeking from the bottom of the tenebrous garment. Though its face was concealed, a gargantuan pair of antlers curved upwards from holes in its smoky hood, decorated with candles and tiny silver bells on the tines. As it turned towards her, Makoto saw that the vaguely humanoid thing held an enormous brown sack, from which came the muffled voices of her friends. Akira screamed something like “Don’t listen to it”, the sound almost completely smothered by the thick fabric, before the antlered thing beat at the sack with a birch branch and the voices fell silent.

From deep within the hood came a voice completely indistinguishable from Haru’s; “Moonlight and black! Get in the sack!” Teeth and two yellow eyes gleamed from inside its hood. Its breath smelled like ice and ancient flesh. It began to step towards Makoto. “The phan-tom thieves”, it said switching from Haru’s voice to Akira's mid-word, “are to be taken to Castle Averna!”

With a rip at her mask, Makoto was astride Johanna. Trees be damned, she had to get away, find others… As she twisted the throttle, Johanna roared and the tires spun, but she felt no traction. It was then she noticed the ground was falling away from her. A long, blue arm was lifting Johanna by the space between her wheels.

“What _are you?”_ Makoto screamed as the thing brought her closer to the mouth of the sack.

Makoto caught a glimpse of a blue face halfway between man and deer by the light of Johanna’s fire.

“A player, of kinds.” It replied in Makoto's voice as it stuffed her into the bag and tied the opening. “This time, I get to play a villain!

 

 

 

 

Elsewhere, the eagle soared through the night sky, Ryuji in its talons and his rescuers, Ann and Morgana, astride its feathered back. Below them stretched a world resplendent in mist, stretching on into the horizon. Dotted ‘cross the landscape were flashes of turquoise, gold and orange; the colors shining from amidst the misty forests from ratty banners, forgotten temples and flickering fires. Over a mountain in the distance, a titanic skeleton lay draped, an ancient sword the size of a battleship sticking from the rock and out the back of its rib cage.

“Whoa…” Echoed Ann and Morgana.

 “It is known by many names; Asgard, Avalon, Hyperborea, Middle Earth; A path leading here lies hidden deep within the hearts of all people, though most only come here by accident, passing through the mists in their slumber and forgetting their time spent here come the ‘morn.” Squawked the eagle.

 “Just like Mementos.” Said Morgana. “It’s is a different part of the collective unconscious, then.”

“You could say that.” Answered the eagle.

“What were those birds?” Asked Ann. “I’d never seen so many!”

“Excited.” Answered the eagle. “Birds are friends to death. Wherever it rides, we feast on its leavings. They felt something bad on the wind and flew to its call.”

“Something bad?” Prodded Ann.

“I cannot say with certainty.” Said the eagle. “Were I you, I’d ask your friend. He killed the thing. Impressively too I might add, judging from the blood on his costume.”

“Skull did _what?_ He’s not hurt, is he?”

“Wait there. I’ll pass him upwards.” Stretching its talons upwards, the eagle handed a silent Ryuji up towards Ann and Morgana. He was drenched in red.

Ann went pale and Morgana immediately began to bathe his comrade in healing magic. Brushing something from his eyes, Ryuji spoke up. “I’m fine. It’s not like it’s my blood.”

“I thought you were knocked out or something.” Exclaimed Ann. “What the hell? You were awake down there and you didn’t say _anything?_ ”

Ryuji lapsed back into silence.

“What _happened?”_ Ann asked again.

“Where’re the others?” Asked Ryuji.

“I don’t know! We’re looking for them! Skull, what happened to you?” Ann snapped back.

“I’m fine, okay?” Ryuji snapped back. “Quit looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” Asked Morgana.

“Like you’re trying to see through me!” Ryuji shouted.

“You’re covered in blood! What’s _wrong_ with you?” Screamed Ann.

“I…” Ryuji fell silent mid-sentence and whipped his head around wildly. “What the hell was that?”

“Don’t change the subject, you idiot!” Ann continued screaming. “Why do you have blood on your costume?”

“No, seriously! Didn’t you hear that?” Replied Ryuji, still casting his head around wildly. “There it is again!”

“It… cannot be. She’s been asleep for centuries…” Muttered the eagle, unheard by its passengers.

“Hear _what,_ Ryuji? What am I supposed to be hearing?” Ann continued to scream.

“Hey, maybe we should calm down…” Said Morgana.

“No I won’t calm down! Ryuji! Tell me. What. Happened!” Screamed Ann in a voice that could make grown men feel small.

A roar split the night, coming from somewhere in the clouds. The trio fell silent.

“This is great!” Squawked the eagle, rapidly picking up speed. “I couldn’t have asked for anyone better!”

“What the hell does that mean?” Roared Ann and Ryuji in unison.

“That’s Goldmother!” Responded the eagle. “Dread of cowards, doom of the brave, scourge of nations! _Dragon! She’s awake!”_

A tremendous black shadow appeared from within the clouds. “Eagle!” Roared Goldmother. “Give me the thieves!” With a beat of her leathery wings, she closed the distance in a heartbeat. Reaching out, a claw snatched Ann and Morgana from the eagles back.

The eagle screeched back at Goldmother. “You’ll regret that, you fire-breathing _bitch!”_ Ryuji held on for dear life.

Plummeting down, the eagle soared over a dark forest. Morgana and Ann struggled in the dragons grasp, but ultimately all they could do as two was slow its pursuit.

“I cannot fight while making sure you don’t fall to your death, ‘Ayuji’. I will be hiding you in the forest soon.” Squawked the eagle.

“My name’s Ryuji!” Shouted Ryuji.

“Well enough then, Ryuji. I make no promises, but by my pride as an eagle and my nature as a being born of narrative, I shall do everything in my power to help your friends and ensure your story unfolds correctly. Do not wait for me though. Should I die, remember the name Garusang; emperor of the mountain skies!”

“Hide me? How?” Shouted Ryuji as the two continued to soar low over the forest floor. “Wait, die?”

“Try not to break any bones.” Replied Garusang. Suddenly Ryuji was dislodged from the eagles back, falling into the trees. As he fell, he caught a glimpse of Garusang turning towards Goldmother, talons out, flying at the monstrosity currently wreathed in Carmen’s fire and Zorro’s gale. Then, he started to feel branches breaking against his back. As the eagle exited Ryuji’s field of vision, a terrible avian cry filled his ears; “I’ll rip off your lips and feast on your tongue!”

Falling to the forest floor, Ryuji fell into an excruciating half-unconsciousness. Unfortunately, his back was to the ground, so as he faded he could easily watch the battle unfold above him while being powerless to influence it. Ann had already melted vast chunks of flesh from the dragon’s bones, and Morgana moved like a whirlwind. Garusang fought like a demon, raking his talons across the dragons hide, crosshatching the monster with bloody streaks. Soon enough though, Goldmother caught the eagle in her jaws and crushed him, his body turning to black ash before blowing away in the wind. Peeling Ann and Morgana off her body and holding them still in her claws, Goldmother then flew slowly and lopsidedly off into the night, obviously desperate to lick her wounds. Only after the dragon had disappeared into the horizon did Ryuji fall into sleep and begin to dream about how pathetic he was.


	5. Your Rock

An enourmous antlered figure bearing a sack rounded a corner and greeted Ann and Morgana in a voice like winter wind. “Fire-witch, Garu-cat. Hail and well met!”

“Let us out of here!” Screamed Ann as she rattled at the bars of her prison cell. Morgana cowered in a corner as if something about the figure that Ann hadn’t noticed terrified him out of his wits.

“Ahh, the cat recognizes me.” Rasped the figure. “I see animals have not forgotten me to the degree humans have, even if they do not realize it.”

Ann chucked a fireball through the iron bars. The antlered figure barely dodged, screeching like a coyote as he did so.

Ann threw another. That time, the figure simply blocked the flame with its bag. A muffled wailing came from within, and Ann paused her assault. Was that… Futaba?

As Ann paused, the figure wrenched open the cell doors and threw the sack inside. It came undone as it landed, revealing Akira, Makoto, Haru and Futaba. With a quick motion the figure slammed the prison door shut and locked it. Morgana squeaked.

“You can’t keep us here forever!” Roared Akira. “We’re the phantom thieves! We’ll find a way!”

“We are relying on it.” Replied the figure, before fading into the shadows.

 

 

 

 

When Ryuji awoke, the moon was still high in the heavens. He was lying on a bed of leaves, currently being crawled over by a snail the size of a kitten. Jumping to his feet, Ryuji swept it off his chest, eloquently grunting “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” as he did so. “Panther, get a load of…” He shouted into the darkness, memory having not yet returned to him. When it did, Ryuji buckled; his back and knees bending as if he was being pressed down upon by some great tyrannical force. Forcing himself back on his feet, he breathed in deeply, his lungs rattling on the exhale.

All around him lay darkness and moisture. Instead of air being drawn into Ryuji’s lungs, it seemed to slither in through his nose and down his throat with every breath. The ground was damp and crackling with fallen leaves. Ryuji’s boots squelched in a pool of unidentified slime.

Shivering with disgust, Ryuji began walking, hoping to rest his ass on dry stone. He had spied temples from above, and he reasoned he could think on his situation from their comfort. He quickly found one, its stone carved in such a way that to climb its steps Ryuji had to tread upon the head of a marble centipede with each step. One head, two heads, three heads… With three mighty bounds Ryuji was at the center of the strange, insect-themed place of worship and below its generous stone roof. At its center lay a tremendous onyx slab, not that Ryuji cared. He simply walked to the nearest torch-lit pillar and buckled, falling into a sitting position with his back to the stone.

One of his worst nightmares had come true. Ryuji had become lost in Mementos. Not only that, but the place was enormous, he had no idea where his friends were, two of them had been kidnapped and the place had demonstrated itself to harbor shadows of incredible might and ferocity. Holding his head in his hands, Ryuji replayed the image of his own body lying prone in his mind. Not only had he allowed himself to become kidnapped, he had doomed himself and perhaps his friends by laying powerless while they had fought a dragon. He felt a great weight upon his back, beating at his shoulders and driving his head between his knees.

“I’m such a goddamn fool.” Ryuji said to himself. “Why me? Why am I like this?”

 _“Because I’m too weak to be who I want to be and too weak to let go.”_ Ryuji thought to himself.

 _“They’re all a bunch of parasites.”_ Ryuji continued to think. _“Like, vampires, or something. Am I not good enough for them to give something back? Even Akira.”_ Ryuji brooded on how the dozens of invitations he had sent to his best friend compared to the handful of times Akira had found him in the school hallway. _“If I only reached out to him as often as he did, the friendship wouldn’t exist. He’d just leave me behind. They all want me to be their rock. They talk a big fuckin’ game about opening up emotionally but they’d leave me the second I did. They just want the satisfaction of doing a ‘good deed’. They’d ditch the moment they’d have to start doing any heavy fucking lifting.”_ Thinking deeper on his own doomed situation, Ryuji couldn’t help muse on his life so far. It seemed a story of powerlessness. Inability to do well in school, inability to run, inability to be someone that others wanted, inability to accept the person he was, and finally, inability to save himself or his friends from Mementos. Even the eagle, Garusang, died for him. The thought made him want to laugh, though it came out closer to a wheeze.

Ryuji heard a loud _thump,_ coming from the onyx slab. “OPEN, DAMNABLE STONE! OPEN!” Came the roar of Yusuke’s voice, followed by more _thumps._

“F-Fox? That you?” Ryuji called back, hastily wiping tears from his eyes.

“Ryuji? RYUJI!” Yusuke's voice called out again. “ _HELP ME! PLEASE!”_

Ryuji leapt to his feet, summoning Kidd to his side as he did so. With a mighty push, the two slid the onyx slab to the side, revealing a dark space beneath it. Yusuke sped through the opening. The artist was covered from head to toe in multicolored viscera and pieces of chitin; holding an unlit candlestick in one hand and his unsheathed sword in the other. “Close it! _”_ He roared, slashing at something enormous and chittering in the darkness. “ _Close it!”_

With a tremendous heave, Ryuji closed the slab back over the pit. The candlestick and the sword both fell to the ground as Yusuke jumped over the slab and lifted Ryuji into a bear hug, beginning to spin the shorter boy around in the air. _“Ryuji!”_ said Yusuke, “I cannot even begin to say how glad I am to hear your voice!”

“Y-yeah.” Responded Ryuji, struggling to get the words out through Yusuke’s vice-like embrace. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

Yusuke lowered Ryuji back to the ground and stepped backwards. “It was horrible. I must’ve been down there for hours. I thought I would… I thought I was…”

Yusuke’s face began to twist and tremble. “It’s okay dude.” Said Ryuji, instinctively drawing Yusuke back into his embrace. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

The taller boy rested his head in Ryuji’s right pectoral muscle, sobs wrenching their way out of his lungs and shaking his body as they went. Ryuji wrapped his right arm around Yusuke’s torso, cradling Yusuke’s head in his left hand and softly brushing his scalp. “It’s okay dude. I’m here for you.” Yusuke wrapped his lanky arms around Ryuji and held tight.

It was a motion Ryuji knew all too well. Since he had been very young, his mother had been came to him for support after her bad days, and the experiences had taught Ryuji the comforting power of human contact well. Responding to Yusuke in such a way was like pushing a button. When he had gone to his mother for something similar, she had sometimes snapped at him with all the rage of the Sakamoto bloodline; a trait that Ryuji only allowed himself to be mastered by in combat. He had learned not to need that manner of support. His mother, working on her own, had had enough to worry about.

“ _I am like a rock.”_ Ryuji thought to himself. _“Sadness is like a luxury. Right now someone else needs me. A rock doesn’t hurt. A rock doesn’t have needs. A rock doesn’t lose itself to anger.”_

Yusuke continued sobbing. “I thought… I thought I was going to die. There were so many of those… _those._ ” He said, choking out the words. “They tried to rip off my lips and eat my tongue. I realized that if I disappeared, no one at my dorm would have even noticed I was gone. My teachers just would’ve thought I was _skipping classes…_ ”

Ryuji held Yusuke closer, not caring about getting viscera on his costume. “That’s alright. They’re a bunch of morons.”

“Smoking tobacco and copulating like baboons is the extent of their lives,” Sobbed Yusuke. “They’re awful. They’re so awful. They _lower_ themselves acting like that, and they don’t even _care_. I’m _nothing_ to them. I don’t mean anything meaningful to anyone still living _._ Madarame wouldn’t notice I was gone for months. Even the thieves would just think I wasn’t answering my _phone…_ It’s like I’m a ghost. An _un-person.”_

Yusuke sobbed deeper into Ryuji’s chest. “I hate it, I truly hate it…” he choked out. “I didn’t want to die like that, unfulfilled, _unfinished…_ Oh god, I’m _unfinished…_ ”

“I’m here for you. Trust me. You’re stronger than you think.” Ryuji said softly, tussling his fingers through Yusuke’s slimy hair. “We’ll get a beef bowl together sometime, or something. My treat. I’m here. We can work on it.”

“Truly?” Sobbed Yusuke, lifting his head slightly. “You… mean that?”

“Always.” Said Ryuji.

Yusuke continued to sob and Ryuji patiently held him, saying things like “It’s okay,” over and over again, until finally Yusuke’s shudders quieted.  Ryuji looked into the night over Yusuke's head. “ _Like a rock.”_ He thought to himself.

“We’re going to have to get the others first, though. After that, we’re going to get you home.” Said the blond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No homo tho.


	6. Heavy Metal in the Night

The moon shined with a blue halo, watching, waiting. Urging. Hypnotizing. Under its light soared a Gothic castle, ringed by a dry moat and bristling with ferns. Around its parapets wrapped oily scales and slick sinew. In the night, claws and teeth seemed to float in Goldmothers liquid, oily coils; gleaming wickedly in the moonlight. Around the tallest tower, eyes like great cesspools. Burning.

Yusuke and Ryuji watched the dragon from as close a vantage as they dared, chests down in wet grass and peeking over a hill. Yusuke thumbed at Scarbrush. “She’s _titanic._ ” He whispered.

“Yeah.” Ryuji whispered back, staring. Both fell silent.

“ _Shit_ she’s big.” Ryuji whispered.

“She’s like Futaba’s mother.” Replied Yusuke.

“Big eyes.” Ryuji whispered back. “Gate’s down. Panther and Mona can’t be anywhere else. She said she wanted to take the phantom thieves, not kill them. We have to get in without getting spotted.”

“Do you believe… if we kept low, would she notice us?” Whispered Yusuke back.

Ryuji briefly imagined wriggling through the grass like a worm below a roosting sparrow and made an odd _gurk_ sound. Godmothers eyes scanned lazily. “It’s probably our only shot. Running for it, she’d just pick us off. We’ve gotta try.”

The two paused, staring at the behemoth before them. Ryuji stiffened, before unstiffening and stiffening again, thinking.

“Come on.” Ryuji choked out, beginning to slither down the hill with his belly to the ground. “Army crawl.”

“R-right behind you.” Replied Yusuke, following.

The duo crawled across the grass at an achingly slow pace. Goldmother seemed not to notice them. Hand over hand, elbow to knee, they finally made it to the lowered bridge, over which the open gate crudely beckoned the boys into the castle. Yusuke shuddered, his mind’s eye going back to his time spent underground, slashing his way through an insectoid pool.

“Alright Fox.” Said Ryuji. “On three, let’s make a break for it. The castle’s too tight, she shouldn’t be able to follow us in. One, two…”

Far above the duo, Goldmother inhaled deeply and spoke in a voice that boiled like chocolate. “I smell… the ichor of centipedes.” She rolled, looking down, eyes closing on Yusuke’s position.

“ _Go!”_ Roared Ryuji, jumping to his feet and hurling Yusuke onto the drawbridge by his lapel. “I’ll be right behind you! _Kidd!”_

The spectral captain appeared behind Ryuji as the blond ripped his mask from his face. The two turned to face Goldmother as she uncurled from the high towers, flame drooling from her leathery lips. Yusuke leapt through the castle gates. An orange stream shot from the dragon’s mouth, engulfing Kidd as the nautical wraith held his arms before his face, shielding Ryuji from the brunt of the heat. It burned hotter that anything Ryuji had ever felt before, even so. His eyes began to water. God, he felt like he was _melting._

As the flame faded, Ryuji turned to run into the castle. Goldmother sprang forward, and with a swipe from one titanic claw Ryuji found himself flying through the air, watching the gate dropping away from him. With a _thump_ Ryuji fell back to ground, air driven from his lungs by the impact, his path inside now obstructed by a mountain of coiling flesh. As he stared upon her serpentine form, fear began to grow over his mind like a cancerous, rotting moss. She was nearly as big as Wakaba.

The dragon rushed forward, claws out, mouth wide, moving through the grass like mercury. Ryuji couldn’t get on his feet fast enough.

_“No.”_

Ryuji opened his eyes. Before him stood Yusuke and Goemon, their weapons shining blue in the moonlight. Goldmother gnashed at their guard, twisting and writhing to try to find a way around their flashing steel.

Yusuke spoke again. _“No.”_

Goldmother paused before rearing back. Flame boiled in her throat. Yusuke and Goemon leapt forward. “ _Beast!”_ Screamed the artist. _“_ I deny you! _You will not take my friend!”_

As Ryuji got to his feet, Yusuke and Goemon were locked in mortal combat. The artist looked like a tiny white flame, dancing ferociously at the center of an enormous black tornado. Yusuke’s katana became a splinter of starlight in his hands. Fire and ice thrashed like twinned serpents. It was all Ryuji could do to follow the motion as he returned to his feet, imbuing his friend with _Tarakukaja_ as he and Kidd dove into the melee. He and Kidd grasped at the dragons neck, struggling desperately to hold Goldmothers mouth from Yusuke. The trio fought, until finally, with a desperate might Ryuji hadn’t been aware either he or Kidd possessed, they held the thrashing rope of sinew that was Goldmother’s neck still. One second, two seconds, their grip began to slip. “ _Now! Do it now!”_ Ryuji pleaded to his friend, unsure of exactly what “it” was Yusuke had to do.

Yusuke buried his sword to its hilt in the dragon’s throat. Taking his blade in both hands, the artist began to drag. With a feeble tug he drew it from Goldmothers weakening body, struggling to stand as the dragon faded to ash. Ryuji fell to the grass like a ragdoll.

Neither of the two thieves were “sweating”; they had ascended beyond that state long ago. The two teenagers were lubricated like bicycle chains. Though the two were absolutely bathed in their own exhausted juices and their sweat burned in their eyes, they still smiled.

“Dude.” Rasped Ryuji. “I want you to know…”

“What do you…” Yusuke gasped for air. “Want me. To know?”

“You’re.” Ryuji breathed in deep as his muscles blazed with pain. “The _best._ I thought I was going to die. Damn, I thought I was going to die a virgin.”

“You and I both.” Chuckled Yusuke. “Though the thoughts of my virginity were at the back of my mind. Mostly, what saw me through was thinking of all the dreams that would go unfulfilled.”

“Huh.” Ryuji paused. “I thought dreaming and wanting stuff made you weak.”

Yusuke fell into the grass beside him. “My friend,” he laughed, “that is one of the most moronic things I’ve ever heard.”

“You wanna fight dude? Come on, square up.” Ryuji groaned mirthfully. “As soon as I can stand. Let’s settle this like men.”

Yusuke laughed. Above the two teenagers, clouds had obscured the moon. Off in the distance, thunder rolled.

“Oh come on. Oh _come on.”_ Ryuji said, only feeling capable of moving his body’s lips, tongue and jaw. “Please. _Please!”_

Water began to fall; fat, cold droplets splattering onto the faces and bodies of the two exhausted teenagers. Yusuke began to laugh uproariously and Ryuji howled happily into the night as the brewing storm washed them both in streams of cooling rain.


	7. Grimnir

_Click._

Akira paused.

_Click._

“Can you hurry it up?” Whispered Futaba, leaning over Akira’s shoulder as he attempted to pick the lock to their cell. Akira made no indication that he had heard her.

“It’s good that they didn’t take your things while you were in the bag.” Said Morgana. “Now we can try to escape.”

“It’s almost like that thing wanted us to escape.” Said Makoto.

“You two just _love_ pointing out the obvious, don’t you?” snarled Akira. Makoto, Akira and Morgana flinched in surprise simultaneously. “I didn’t mean… I’m…” Akira trailed off.

Akira took a deep breath and resumed his attempt at lock picking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Just give me some time and I’ll have us out soon.”

“Make it quick.” Said Futaba, leaning closer. “It can’t be _that_ hard.”

Akira’s face warped for a second, before returning to its usual calm state. Futaba retreated, getting the distinct impression that she had just witnessed something she shouldn’t have.

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

The cell swung open. From the darkness beyond the bars, something began to growl. Carmen threw something into the darkness, and the growls became fading yips as whatever creature had lain there fled.

“Let’s go.” Said Ann, striding into the darkness.

 

 

Lighting their way with a torch taken from one of the walls, Yusuke and Ryuji crept through the castle depths. Fire licked across the walls from mounted torches, badly illuminating dozens upon dozens of colorful tapestries. Trailing his right hand over the fabric, Yusuke sighed contentedly; completely absorbed by the mythic cycles looping across the walls, told in pictographs and incomprehensible runic scripts. Ryuji tried to keep his gaze from resting too long in one place, unable to shake the feeling that the designs were staring at him.

Yusuke suddenly drew his hand back from a tapestry, sucking air through his teeth as he did so. A drop of red shone on the tip of his ring finger. Ryuji stared at the spot Yusuke had been touching, which displayed an emerald serpent drinking greedily from a stream of red liquid.

“…What the eff?” Spoke Ryuji.

“What is it?” Asked Yusuke, sucking at his finger.

“That snake was just lying down a second ago, I swear.”

“Strange.” Yusuke said, still sucking the blood from his finger. “I have felt before that works of truly great art had reached out from within their canvas and touched me deeply, though not like this. It reminds me of the paintings in Sensei… I mean, Madarame’s palace.”

“Damn.” Ryuji leaned closer towards the snake-bearing tapestry. “Damn! It changed again!”

Yusuke looked back. The snake’s tail was now stained with red, and writing in red Japanese letters had appeared next to it. “ _You should… listen_?”

A wail echoed through the castle halls. Ryuji jumped to attention. “Panther!”

“Skull, wait! We don’t…” Yusuke yelled as Ryuji ran towards the Ann’s voice. “Damnit!” Cursed the artist, before beginning to chase after his friend. “Skull. Skull! Listen to me!”

With a rip at his mask, Ryuji summoned Kidd to his side, hobbling slightly on his bad leg. “Panther!” He roared.

“I’m here!” Came Ann’s voice. As Ryuji and Kidd rounded a corner, two blue arms extended from a tapestry, snatching the blond and dragging him into the artwork. Ann’s voice morphed into a quiet lupine cackle, before taking on the quality of Ryuji’s voice and regaining its volume. “Fox! Over here!”

As Yusuke rounded a corner, the two blue arms reached out again and dragged the surprised artist into a tapestry. Emerging from the wall, an enormous antlered figure walked out into the halls with a squirming sack over its shoulder and began to cackle. With a few incantations and hand motions, the sack fell still.

Screeching in a voice like a coyote, the antlered figure called into the castle air. “Hear that, Joker? Panther? I know you ca-an. I’ve caught two more of your number! Oberon, Titania and I will be in the throne room, meet us there if you wish your friend’s return!”

 

 

 

 

As Ryuji awoke, he found himself staring into a face that seemed nightmare made flesh. As he tried to recoil from it, he realized he was chained to a wall, Yusuke imprisoned beside him. He was in a long hall, beginning with two elaborate wooden doors and ending with two raised thrones seated side by side. The walls were covered with elaborate tapestries. The nightmarish face turned its antlered head towards two exalted thrones, one holding Oberon, the other Titania, and spoke; “Your plans are coming along nicely. The others should be here soon.”

“You never fail to exceed my expectations, old friend.” Chuckled Oberon, standing from his throne.

“Let me out! _Fuck!”_ Roared Ryuji.

“Good, he already knows his lines.” Spoke Titania.

Footsteps began to echo closer to the throne room. Oberon drew his sabre as Titania rose and muttered something; along another wall of the throne room, a shimmering gate appeared. The antlered figure drew an enourmous staff made from birch, decorated with animal teeth and fetishes tied by lines of string. “It’s been so long since I last donned the mask of the dread sorcerer,” chuckled the antlered figure. “I must thank you two for this.”

“The pleasure is ours.” Lilted Titania, sorcery shining in her hands.

_“Who the hell are you people?”_ Roared Ryuji.

The double-doors burst open, and Ann’s flame-wreathed silhouette strode through, the air shimmering around her from the heat. Through the breach poured the phantom thieves, rushing to meet Ryuji’s captors like a vengeful human wave. The antlered figure spat a hard syllable, and with a wave of its staff, Morgana fell; choking and sputtering like a fish out of water. Then, the room exploded into motion.

Oberon was like a blur, attaching himself to Akira and taking great advantage of his weapons superior reach. Ann and Titannia were shrouded in the light of sorcery; a whirlwind of fire and nuke, blessings and hexes. Futaba stayed in _Necronomicon,_ out of site, analyzing. Meanwhile, it took the combined efforts of Makoto and Haru to keep the antlered figure contained, even if only for a few seconds. Gripping its staff like a baseball bat, the antlered thing knocked Haru unconscious with a single, mighty _thwak,_ before turning to Makoto and knocking her flat with an electric spell _._ It was at this point that Ryuji noticed that Yusuke was bleeding. Upon closer examination, the blond realized his silent friend wasn’t just brooding; but rather quietly struggling to breathe.

“Oh no. Oh nonononono.” Muttered Ryuji, desperately attempting to reach his mask. His forearms were clad in tight iron cuffs and chained to the wall; he could move them at best a foot or two. The only thing he could do was turn his head and watch the melee.

Morgana stood, and with a quick dash he and Ann laid Titania low. As Morgana jumped upon the shoulders of the antlered figure, the combined efforts of Akira and Ann quickly cornered Oberon and forced the winged faerie out a window. The antlered figure stood tall; grasping at the dark shadow flitting around its neck. With a lucky blow Morgana put his sword between the figures eyes.

A _crack_ rang through the throne room, and the altered figure’s nightmarish face fell to the ground and shattered like porcelain. A new face appeared from under where the old one had lain; a masculine, purple-colored one wearing an eyepatch. “Hel.” Muttered the figure, all lupine inflection fading from his voice. “I liked that mask.”

Suddenly, Morgana found himself in the purple man’s hands. After a brief period of winding up, the purple man threw Morgana into a stone wall like a football, knocking the cat completely unconscious. As the man turned to face Ann and Akira, his appearance melted and morphed; his antlers became a helmet, his staff became a spear and his starry cloak turned white.

“It appears my masquerade is over.” Spoke the purple man. Ann hesitated as Akira clumsily lunged forward. “ _THUNDER REIGN!”_ Called the purple man. With a boom like Armageddon, lightning flashed; Akira fell. “ _No!”_ Roared Ryuji, still trying to get his mask off.

“ _YES.”_ Growled the purple man, turning towards Ann. Raising his spear high, lightning flashed; Ann was instantly on the defensive, dodging as best she could in her battle-weary state before the ferocious electric onslaught. Suddenly, Ann tripped over Haru’s unconscious form; a brief skitter and she was back up again, but it was enough. The purple man raised his spear high.

Something in Ryuji clicked, and a frantic mantra began to play in his head; _likearocklikearocklikearocklikearock…_ With a desperate strain, Ryuji reached for his mask with his right arm, the cuffs on his arm cutting him to the bone in the process, and tore it off. Kidd exploded outwards, freeing Ryuji with four well-placed cannon shots. Lightning filled the air with the stink of ozone as tempest fought tempest. Ann was back up and fighting.

“ _Who are you?”_ Snarled the purple figure. _“Who are you to defy_ me, _I, the_ _bearer of a hundred names? Wisest of the Aesir, Bane of Giants, Patriarch of Asgard, Lord of Ravens, Master of Runes, All! Father! WHO ARE YOU TO DEFY ME?”_

Ryuji choked, his mind clouded by one of his greatest fears, bubbling like broth within his skull; that he could do everything in his power, and it still mightn’t be enough. Ann screamed back loudly enough for both of them. The fear drained from Ryuji’s mind at the sound of his companion’s voice, reminding him of where he had found the strength to free himself. Fear, much like sadness or rage, was a luxury Ryuji could ill afford; the blond desperately wished to protect his friends, and the desire left no room for such indulgences.

It was then the true melee began, though it looked far from one conducted by mortals. Kidd and Carmen, wreathed respectively in lightning and fire looked like aspects of ferocious, primordial gods, floating protectively above their chosen. The purple figure crackled with the light of electric sorcery; old sorcery, the kind to birth worlds and crush suns. Slowly, the purple man gained the upper hand, his advantage increasing faster by the second, until Ryuji and Ann were cornered. The figure towered over them, twirling his hand nefariously.

“I see you have come to an epiphany, young one.” The figure addressed Ryuji. “And a wise one indeed; desire is stronger than fear. Only cowards discard their loves for fear of pain, and only fools take their desires as a sign of weakness. But in the end, neither of you were enough. I should compose a poem about it, though I usually prefer heroic tales of struggle and growth… Alas. Grimnir’s lip-streams still shall flow!”

“Never.”

The purple figure fell, clutching at his chest dramatically before disappearing in a flash. Behind him, Yusuke collapsed, sword in hand and a hoary whisper on his throat, broken chains on his limbs. “Ryuji… I didn’t…”

Ryujji and Ann rushed to his side. His delirious whispers continued. “Never knew you were… I can…”

“What is it?” Ann asked, hands ablaze with _dia._

“Shadow… gave me something, showed me things. Help… I can… listen. I will never leave. I won’t leave. Sorrow. It… does not mean that you’re weak. ”

It was that moment Ryuji realized he was both seriously wounded and extremely emotionally compromised, and began to cry. Ann looked at both of them with extreme confusion. As Ryuji dried his eyes, she began to pass around revival beads to her fallen companions, deciding it was a question for another time. The swirling gate swung open. The phantom thieves passed through, healing themselves as they went. Lurching, stumbling; back into Mementos and then back into Tokyo, thinking only of resting after a long night.

Long after the thieves left, three shadows and an enormous avian figure crept out from within the tapestries and closed the gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end of my fic! I really enjoyed writing it, and I really hope you had fun reading it too. Thanks for everything.


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